bad idea
by makapedia
Summary: Explaining porn to a sheltered princess was decidedly not in Hak's job description. And yet here he is. (modern royalty au)


Really, he should've seen it coming.

Nothing good ever comes from Jae-Ha's meddling. It wasn't even that Hak thought the guy had ill intentions. In his own way, he knew Jae-Ha's methods came from a good place - the heart, probably, whatever - and it wasn't as like he left a porn dvd laying around with the _sole intention_ of having Yona, resident sheltered princess, stumble upon it. It'd been a thought, for sure, and for that, Hak still feels justified in thinking about smacking upside the head for such a stunt - but it wasn't the only reason he'd done it. And not even the main reason, either.

Still. As he watches Yona reach for it, something sinks in his gut and Hak silently vows to get Jae-ha back for this mess.

"What's this?" she asks, far too innocently. "Did you rent this from Redbox? I didn't think romantic movies were your thing, Hak…"

Hak has half a mind to snatch it out of her hands before she flips the case over and catches sight of the tits on the front cover. It's a delicate line he walks these days, wavering uncertainly between preserving Yona's naivete and leading her through the things the king has purposefully left her in the dark about. Hesitence could cost him his life in battle - but despite his ace bodyguard senses, he still hesitates, caught in a pause, staring at her wordlessly.

It's like watching a train crash. He can do nothing but watch her flip the case over and get an eyeful. How is he supposed to warn her or prepare her for the sight of a naked woman getting railed? In Yona's eyes, romance peaks at holding hands and forehead kisses.

She blinks rapidly. Pinks adorably. Sets the case back down where she found it, face down, and turns, very calmly, to instead stare suspiciously at him.

And ah. Hook, line and sinker. Now he's caught in Jae-Ha's web of lies. Dammit.

"It's not mine," he says, as if he could prove his innocence with his word. "Don't look at me like that, Princess."

"It's okay if it is." But she still stares at him as if he's guilty, and Hak sort of wants to go take a long bath and scrub away the judgement her eyes pin on him. "I just didn't know you were into that sort of thing."

Laughable. Hak is _into _one girl and one girl _only,_ and he would never dream of entertaining the thought of _Yona getting reamed from behind_. She's not his to fantasize about. "That's because I'm not."

"But." She gestures grandly to the dvd case. "This?"

"Not mine."

"You don't have to be embarrassed," she says, even as she's blushing pink. "It's okay. I hear it's really normal for men to be interested in these sorts of things."

These sorts of things. "What. Sex?"

The pink of her cheeks burns red now instead and Hak sort of regrets saying anything at all. It's clear the thought has never crossed her mind - and he supposes he understands. Hak himself tries hard to seperate _Yona_ and _sex_ in his mind, and the more she pushes the subject, the harder it is for him to keep the two thoughts independant. For her, it must be something dark and dirty. It's been a taboo topic around her for as long as he can remember, and for her to associate something like porn as _that thing Hak likes_ feels like social suicide.

And yet. He is a glutton for punishment. "Does it bother you?"

She shakes her head. "No! I already said that. It's just…"

_It's just._ Yona adverts her eyes and looks to the corner of his bed, instead, and Hak keeps his arms crossed over his chest. He will not wilt beneath the weight of her curiosity. He will be the pillar she needs.

"... It's not mine," he says again, more gently this time. "Jae-Ha was trying to lend it to me."

Yona purses her lips. Hak tries not to stare. He doesn't do a very good job of it, and instead resorts to staring at the back cover of that damn dvd instead, because somehow it is a safer middle ground, to stare at porn, than it is to face Yona's indecision. He isn't that kind of guy. He won't rush her answer.

"... I just don't know very much about it," she admits, then, a bit awkward, a lot cute. "It's never really been… in my _realm_, I guess- not that I don't care! I just… I didn't think…?"

"Don't get weird about it," he says.

"I'm not! I'm not… trying to?" Yona blinks, then finds it in her to look at him head-on, eye to eye, and he leans back, burnt, almost, from the heat of her stare. She has this way about her sometimes, when she gathers her courage, and it's like holding a hand too close to the flame of a candle - the fire licks his very being almost too intimately and it's a little like being branded.

He never knows what to do about it. He doesn't break this new eye contact she's initiated, but he does squirm a little, uncontrollably so.

"I didn't think people actually watched stuff like this. And like… enjoyed it."

Well. Hak doesn't, not really. But that's another story for another time, another box that should probably be left closed for now. Still. He untangles his arms from their firm position across his chest and instead pushes a hand through his hair. This girl will turn him gray before he even turns 21. "Jae-Ha does."

"He's kind of depraved." Hak barks out a laugh and Yona bulldozes on. "But you never seem interested in much of anything. It's like you're a rock."

"You say the sweetest things sometimes."

"Not in a bad way!" She marches forward, and Hak is stone, predictably so. She stands right in front of him and puts her hands on his shoulders, and he will not melt, cannot. "Does it work?"

Fuck. "Come again?"

"Does it… you know…" Yona has the grace to be bashful, at least. "... work. For you. Does it get your engine running?"

He cannot have this conversation with her. "What."

"_Is porn sexy or not?"_

The retort dies in his throat. For her part, she looks embarrassed, to have blurted something so blatantly invasive, but even so, he's still caught at an impasse. Should he indulge her and actually answer her question honestly it'll surely lead to more questions, questions that Hak's not sure he'll ever be prepared to answer - but should he ignore her curiosity and instead shut the whole conversation down completely, he'll instead feel decidedly big brotherly, almost parental in nature. And for as badly as he wants to let this go, to finally exist, free of this uncomfortable guilt that he harbors for having feelings towards the princess he's devoted himself to protecting, there's still something, _something _that forces his hand.

Who is he to deny her knowledge? She's never been a very studious princess. If she wants to learn something, well, he is but her faithful servant.

"... You're going to have to be more specific," Hak answers finally, with a sigh.

"This. Does _this _get you going?" It seems Yona has dropped the flustered thing completely, and instead, she grabs the dvd from the table and waves it in his face. "It seems kind of crude-"

He won't fuck with her this time. "No."

She falters. "... No? But then why would Jae-Ha-"

"Because he's nosy." And because it's _sad,_ apparently, that instead of _getting some_ Hak spends his days holding a torch for a girl who doesn't love him back. "I didn't think you'd care about my preferences, though."

Ah, there's the rosiness in her cheeks, back full flush. "It's not like I can ask anyone else!"

That strokes something in him that he doesn't dare give attention to. Instead, he takes a moment to scrub at his face and then snatch the dvd from her hands. It's weird, watching her wave around an image of a naked woman. The two worlds don't match up. They shouldn't match up, for Hak's sanity.

"Hey." Yona pouts. "I wasn't done with that."

"Thinking about watching it, then?"

She purses her lips. Burns from pink to a proper red, all the way to her ears. She nearly matches the shade of her wildfire hair and still she soldiers on, in that stubborn, infuriating way of hers. "Yes!" she blurts, like the brat she is, and makes an attempt to swat it away from him. But he's both taller and faster than she is, and instead she just ends up slapping his forearm and pouting further. "You're not my father, you can't stop me, I'm an adult-"

"When did I ever say I was your dad?"

"You're acting like one!"

Well, he didn't think he was. He actually thought he was being quite open with her for once, answering her questions instead of purposefully dodging. Or… well, he was dodging a little less than normal, anyway. "It's my job to watch over you, you know," he says, instead, still absolutely _dodging_ what's actually keeping him from letting her watch porn.

"I'm an adult," she says, planting her hands on her tiny hips.

"Why now?"

"Because it's here." Yona stares him down, and goddammit, he won't break, not this time. "And it's… embarrassing… to get something like that on my own."

So it's convenient. "Kids who can't work up the guts to buy porn probably aren't mature enough to watch it."

"Who's a kid?" she rages, grabbing at him again. And he shouldn't push her buttons like this, shouldn't take so much pleasure in watching her get all worked up - it sure doesn't help his guilt issues, that's for sure - but it's such a hard habit to break when she's so stupidly cute. It takes everything in him not to pinch her nose and just give in, for once, and let her have what she wants. But what would that help? What good would spoiling her at this point do?

He's a glutton for punishment. It says more about him than he likes to acknowledge. Hak bops her on the head with the dvd case instead and says, "What do you know about sexy anyway, pipsqueak?"

"Hmph!" Yona snatches it from his hands and squints down at it, as if it'd done something to personally affront her. She makes no sense. "Enough."

"Enough," he parrots.

"I read things! I have a library card, you know."

"Oooh. Bodice rippers."

"You're the worst," Yona huffs, but pushes past him and plops onto his bed, beelining straight for his laptop. "I'm not stupid, you know. I know how it works. I've just never like… seen.. it happen."

Curiosity killed the cat. He's not sure which one of them is the cat in this situation, though - Yona, for willingly exposing herself to Jae-Ha's taste in porn (raunchy, overzealous, _noisy_) as her first introduction into the world of the down and dirty, or Hak, for standing by and watching it happen because he wants to see what her reaction will be.

Which. Wait.

"... You're going to watch it in here?"

Her brow raises at the crack in his voice. "I'm not going to watch it in my room."

"Princess-"

"It's embarrassing to watch porn alone, isn't it?"

"... I think you're missing the point."

"Hak." She's sitting on his bed, legs crossed, in a pleated skirt and thigh high socks, and _goddamn_, that curiosity pulls in his chest tighter than any leash ever could.

Worse than that, she cocks her head to _look _at him, and those eyes of hers could move mountains. They move him, man of stone, cold and hardened, but - but Hak stumbles at her words, and falls to sit beside her without any thought in his head except for _curiosity killed the cat. _

Whatever. He's always said he'd die for her. It's been a pretty good life, all things considered.

Yona makes herself at home in his bed, and he watches her do so with a sort of perverse fascination. His pillow gets placed against his headboard, and Yona sits there, leaning back against it, not at all sitting like the lady she's been born and bred to be. Perhaps he's been too lax with her these days. Perhaps college aboard has changed her.

(Perhaps he's changing, too, and just hasn't allowed himself to process it.)

It's fine. This will be fine. Friends can watch porn together and nothing can happen. It's not the actual porn itself will do anything to him - he's already screened it himself, in a moment of his own bored curiosity - so really it's a non issue. He'll be fine if they just sit here and make fun of the damn thing.

What _won't_ be fine is if it awakens something in Yona. There are few things on this Earth Hak doubts can fully defeat him. He's taken down groups of men at a time. He's bested assassins, spies, hitmen and the likes on his own. He's kept his frustrating princess alive through two years of university.

An aroused Yona in his bed might actually be the thing to finally kill him.

"You're sure about this," he asks, trying hard not to sound like a parental figure and probably failing.

"Yes, Hak." She plops the dvd into the drive and presses it shut with disturbing finality. She looks over her shoulder to give him a look that's probably meant to silence his concerns, but all it proves to do is tighten that leash that she's metaphorically buckled around his throat.

And just like that, he's seatbelted into Yona's wild ride. Nothing new. This is the life he lives, after all. Tending to his princess' whims and wishes, keeping a watchful eye over her while she plummets into potential danger. Sliding an arm around her pseudo casually while she presses play on a cheap b-rate porno.

He's doomed.

It starts fine, anyway. Yona's brows disappear beneath her bangs as the scene starts with the couple already naked and tumbling into bed. "Oh," she says beneath her breath, and that's it for a while. She presses her hand to her face and watches, index finger left draped over her lips, and Hak tries to pay attention to the grind session on screen and not wishing he was her finger instead.

"There's not much a of a lead up, is there," she asks, after a moment. "They just… go for it."

"Mmm."

Hak cracks his neck and leans in, just a hair closer. He tells himself it's to see the screen better, should he feel the need to snatch the laptop away if things get messy. It's not at all because from here, he can smell the subtle scent of her perfume, something light and floral and pretty and maddeningly _her_. She doesn't move or shove him back and instead just sits there, quietly taking the scene in, as the hands onscreen really begin to travel to places unknown to her.

Yona makes a little sighing sound when the girl grabs her partner's penis. Hak stares at the screen so forcefully for a moment he's afraid it might actually shatter beneath the weight of his attention.

This was a terrible idea. He has to lighten the mood. "Jae-Ha has bad taste."

"... Is this not standard fare?"

Her voice is a smidge higher than its usual pitch. _Don't think. Don't look._ Hak forces out a long, slow breath, not thinking about the way her knee brushes his thigh as she shifts and settles in his bed.

"Usually there's more lead up. Like. A whole flimsy scene's worth."

"Oh." Yona leans back, just enough for her neck to lean against his arm, and lightning strikes in his gut, terrible and thunderous. "Yeah, I kind of expected that. Like. There's no pizza guy."

"And no babysitters."

"No babysitters..."

He foolishly chances a glance at her, and Yona's cheeks burn that same rose color as before - but she's chewing on her lower lip now, as the male lead proceeds to go down on his partner, and there's not enough brain bleach in the world to cleanse Hak's memory of this one.

There may be no babysitters, but there's sure a bodyguard in the room, and he's oft thought himself as an over glorified version of one. He gets paid to watch over her. Take care of her. Inappropriately watch her bite her lip and swallow a sigh as the porn barrels forward, terribly so, toward its finale. Lady who will soon be railed sideways rakes a hand through her paid lover's hair as he licks her for all he's worth. Yona squirms in her seat. The camera slowly zooms in, and the cheesy music doesn't even seem to matter - she's into it. She's very into it.

Christ.

"... Hak," she says, too quietly.

He leans forward and turns the volume down with a few taps of his keyboard. "Princess."

"Is this… how it is?"

Well. The actress is thrashing around like she's going to have a sore neck when she wakes up tomorrow, and her partner sure isn't paying enough attention to her clit to really warrant that kind of a reaction, he thinks, but. "... I guess."

"You guess?"

She blinks. Looks at him with those giant, burning eyes of hers. Curiosity. _Curiosity._ He might just die, burned alive, right here. Who is he to deny her?

"It could be better," he answers honestly.

"Better…"

Her lashes flutter and he watches almost obsessively. It's hard to look away, even as she does, to watch the scene unfold further. It's a lot staged, and devoid of anything that would actually, uh, get him going (Yona, Yona, always Yona - but some actual romance would help, too) but perhaps that's just his general disinterest in most things sexual talking. For him, it's never really been like that, and he doesn't have much experience to draw upon to properly answer her questions.

But that doesn't mean he doesn't understand. No, for a while he's known that he was different than Jae-Ha, different than Yona - something like this could hardly get him really going, not unless he worked hard to mentally transpose - but he's alive, at least, and understands what feelings are and how they might work. He knows how they work for him. Knows what would be ideal in his situation.

"He could kiss her," he says, after a moment's hesitation.

She purses her lips again. "... Does kissing feel good, too?"

It's not an invitation. But goddamn, does that leash around his neck tug him closer, does it ever tether him to her. "It could."

Her frown has never looked more tempting. "You're the king of avoiding the question, you know."

He can barely hear her over the thundering in his blood. Sometimes, he wonders how she remains so blissfully ignorant, how she can keep her head so high up in the clouds. How can she not notice the effect she has on him? How he can't seem to look anywhere but her mouth, even despite the color of her eyes, the bare strip of her thighs, exposed, between skirt and sock. In his bed. He should die, right here, right now, and spare himself the humiliation of shattering beneath her inquisition.

"I don't know how to answer the question."

The moment stretches, thick like putty, between them. She swallows again. Shifts, laptop sliding unnoticed, into the crack of his bed. "... Could you show me?"

Bed springs creek beneath her weight as she leans toward him. She doesn't know what she's asking. He can't. He shouldn't. It would be inappropriate, to take advantage of her burning curiosity like this, but- but she's so sure in the way she stares at him, even as she blushes. She's so sure, in the way she presses a hand to his thigh to steady herself, as she shifts to sit up on her knees and elevate herself to his height.

He manages out a, "_Princess?" _

It's not enough to keep her at bay. And nothing would be enough, he thinks, to keep him from tending to her, ahem, _whims._ Not when it's engraved so deeply into his very being, to give his princess exactly what she wants, even if it's in a roundabout way. But there's nothing about this that's forcing his hand, nothing about it that's making him do something that he hadn't already wanted to do. He's wanted to kiss her a thousand times, in a thousand different ways - and this is an excuse, surely, to indulge in those wayward, daydream-esque fantasies he tries to pretend he doesn't have.

He is but her faithful servant. Guard dog. Glorified babysitter. Lovestruck idiot. Whatever title will do, he thinks - whatever title will grant him the permission he so needs to slide a palm, warm and ready, over her jaw and melt into her kiss. Her grip on his jeans tightens and her resulting sigh as she discovers that oh, he has a tongue, isn't _that _neat, single handedly shatters what's left of his inhibitions.

Hak practically chokes on his leash. Yona sucks his lower lip between her teeth and he can do nothing but push a hand through her hair and wonder how he got himself in this situation. All the while, muted cheesy porn saxophones hum from the cavern between bed and wall, and something finally goes off in the back of his head.

Like emerging from the morning fog, Hak regains control. Nudges her back and tries not to think about the heavy way she's begun breathing, the way she's looking at him like he's dinner and she's starving. "Sorry," he whispers, hoarsely "wait, Princess, are you sure-"

She is an unstoppable storm. "Yona,"she says, like a woman possessed, and now she's the one who can't stop staring at his mouth.

It's weirdly validating. A lot distracting.

"What."

"Yona," she repeats, and he can barely make sense of her over the way his heart is trying to pound its way out of his chest. "Say my name."

"W-" It would be wildly inappropriate. Not that he's ever cared particularly for matters of propriety or the court, but- but the separation exists for a reason in his head, and she's-

"_Hak_."

He perks like a damn dog. She can't breathe his name like that. It's unfair. It'll let him think things about her. Things he shouldn't think.

"... Yona," he says, finally, surprised how easily it slips off his tongue. In all the years he's known her, he doesn't know if he's ever called her by her name. Always titles. Nicknames. Teasing chides.

He doesn't get the chance to weigh the way her name feels on his tongue. The greedy little princess decides she wants to see how it tastes first, and practically tackles him down to his own bed, hands planted on his face. And she must like it, the way her name sounds in his voice, because she kisses him silly, even if she's clumsy and clueless. It's endearing, the way she kisses him, because even if she's never kissed another person before she still has the enthusiasm to make up for her lack of skill.

And, well. It's not like he's been kissing anyone either. He's probably not one to judge. All he knows is that when she holds his face like that and demands his attention it feels good. Like. Better than anything else has ever felt. And when she shifts and wedges her knee between his thighs warning bells begin to go off in the back of his head.

"Yona," he tries, again, as she breaks for breath. "_Yona- _hhhfh, hey."

Her mouth finds his neck instead. She bussies herself with the crook between jaw and neck, and sucks there, like an absolute brat. He loves her.

"Are you giving me a hickey," he asks blearily, staring at his ceiling in absolute awe.

Yona releases with an audible pop and sighs. "I- I was trying to, but I guess I don't really know how-"

He loves her. How is it possible for him to love anyone this much? He feels like he might burst. He also feels like he might have to cut himself out of his damn skinny jeans, and he's never really had that problem before, huh.

Yona leans back and sits on his knee. It's a good angle for her, he thinks; seated upon him, sitting tall, long hair, tangled and bushy around her shoulders, chest heaving. She watches him with smouldering eyes, and he watches her, as her gaze travels from his own open mouth, to the spot on his neck she'd vandalized, to his crooked shirt, down to the button of his jeans.

Ah.

"... Is there something else you want me to show you," he asks slowly, as he watches the idea form in her eyes, watches the realization hit.

It shouldn't be so endearing. She's not being cute. She's a handful. She might've broken his laptop because of this little stunt. He doesn't care about getting his dick sucked - he's never really cared about that - but there's something about the way she stares at him, about the way she takes matters into her hands and works on peeling him out of his jeans that really does it for him.

"Only if you're offering," she says, cheekily. Christ.

Hak huffs and pushes a hand through his hair. "As if you even need to ask."

Her glance flickers up, just briefly. Just long enough to melt his bones and pin him down there, a fly caught in her web.

"Of course I have to ask," she says, as if it's obvious, even as she's unbuttoning his pants with eager, shaking hands. "I don't want you to feel like you have to. You shouldn't feel obligated just because-"

"Because you're a princess?"

She flinches. "... I don't… want you to call me that right now."

He should not be getting hard from this. Hell, he didn't even think it was possible to be harder than he just was, but now her hands are on him, and even through his boxers, it's still way too much stimulation for him to maintain clear thought. He clenches his blankets in his hands to keep himself from grabbing at her like a creep and breathes, "Whatever you say."

"Hak, I mean it."

"And _I_ mean it." Is this what it means to be love drunk? He practically can't see straight. It's frustrating, maddening tunnel vision. There is nothing but Yona and the blaze of her hair, Yona and her hands, Yona and the fantastic warmth from where she sits on his knee. He cannot think his words through, and so he blurts, "It's fine, I don't care."

There's only a moment's pause, and then sweet, love-dumb Yona leans down and mutters, "Is _that_ what gets you going, Son Hak?" in his ear, like she's a temptress or something. Like she actually knows what she's asking.

Maybe she does. That hand slips beneath the waistband of his boxers and her hand is softer than his has ever been. _His_ brows disappear beneath his bangs this time, and words are impossible now that he's in her hands. Clueless hands. Capable hands. Yona releases him just long enough to push his back down onto the mattress before she plops herself between his legs like she belongs there or something.

He might actually be dying. His blood runs hotter than it ever has. Yona hums and sighs contentedly, as if taking his dick into her hands and rubbing up on it actually brings her any joy. Ah. Huh. Maybe he's not dying at all - maybe he's already croaked and this is heaven. It sure feels like it.

"It's smooth," she marvels.

"Pervert," he manages, even as his voice cracks.

"Shut up, servant," she says, but she does it with such familiar, loving fondness that he doesn't even take offense to it. And he never has. But there's something about the situation now, and the way the hand that isn't rubbing him into gradual oblivion is pinning his hips to the bed, as if she could actually overpower him that drives him crazy.

It makes him pant. He can't help it. She's so slow with her ministrations, as if she hadn't kissed him with such ardent fever before. He will die. He is already dead. And worse than that, he wants to kiss her again.

"You're sure about this," he asks the ceiling.

He can feel her sigh on his dick. And then, "I've never been more sure about anything," in the sweetest, tiniest voice, before he works up the nerve to actually look at her.

Their eyes meet. Yona stops pinning him down to the bed long enough to collect her long hair over her shoulder, blink once, take him back into her hands and attempt to swallow him in one go.

"Wwwwwhoa, _whoa-_" He is dead. There is no other answer. His bones catch fire and melt spontaneously and he is putty beneath her, nothing more than skin and molten lava and the heat of her mouth, burning him to his core. She takes him slowly, stubbornly, and he can barely keep his hands to himself as she explores him.

She likes having this control over him, he realizes. She likes learning what makes him tick, what will make him react. What effect her tongue has on him, her lips. Even more than that, she likes knowing this makes him feel something, if the way she blushes but maintains eye contact throughout the entire thing is any evidence.

His fingers itch. He has no bones but god, what he wouldn't give to hold onto something solid. The urge to tangle his fingers in that mess that she calls hair and anchor himself to her is nearly suffocating.

This isn't how it was supposed to go. If anything, he thought it might be the other way around - thought he might be the one going down on her, if her reaction to the porn was any hint as to what he thinks she might like. And god, does he want to be the one to be able to help her figure that out. The thought of it nearly tips him over the edge, and coupled with her mouth, and the way she's looking at him - well, if he doesn't do something quick, she'll get a surprise he's not sure she's ready for.

But it's hard to tell her to stop. It feels like his heart has been gutted out of his chest, and she's taken it into her hands and has decided to keep it with her for safe keeping. He's torn open, and her tongue melts everything that he's ever known down to nothing, and god, how is he supposed to think when she's looking at him like that? When she takes his hand and places it on her head, as if she's giving him permission or something. As if she has ever actually known what he wanted.

"I wanted this to be about you," he confesses.

"Mmhmmh," she moans, and her arm… moves. Budges down, suspiciously so, and her shoulder moves, and realization dawns upon him. She's touching herself.

_Stupid. _He wants to be the one to do that. Well, even with her binding word, he is still stronger than her. He has the iron will, he who pines foolishly for years. Hak summons the nerve of a general and sits up enough to peel her off of him.

She whines. He cannot think about it. Her mouth is pink and she rubs drool off her face with the back of her hand and she's still the prettiest thing he's ever seen.

"I wasn't _done_-"

"You want the same done to you, don't you?"

She cannot hide the way she perks. Nor can she hide the way her blush deepens. "Hak!"

"You liked it, didn't you?" The tides turn around them. He tucks himself back into his boxers, at least, and tries not to allow his pride to flair too exceptionally as she watches him peel his jeans off and toss them behind him. "When you watched it happen to her."

"I-" Ah, there's that bitten lip again. How he's missed it. How he wants to try it himself. "You could've let me finish you first."

"Too bad." He stalks toward her, not unlike a cat, but she doesn't cower. "I'm legally obligated to handle your needs first."

"_Handle!"_

He's handled her for most of their lives. He doesn't know why she's taking such offense to his wording now. Hak tugs her forward by her spread thighs and tries not to think too deeply on the web he's weaved himself into. Her skin is warm beneath his fingers, a little sweaty, a lot soft, and her eyes are wide as he bumps her forehead with his own. Her hands find the worn cotton of his shirt and she wavers there for a moment, blinking, watching him.

"Is your servant permitted to tend to you, your highness?"

She squints. "I thought I told you not to talk to me like that right now."

Ah. Well. "Old habits die hard," he says, tugging her legs forward, knocking her back onto the bed. Her head thumps against a pillow, hair curtaining around her like a fluttering veil, and he could probably wax poetic about the way her hair looks spread across his sheets for hours, if he let himself.

He doesn't let himself. This isn't about him right now. It's about her and what she'd wanted, what she thought she might like - and how he's always really wanted to be the one to give that to her.

"Well?"

His princess is not flexible. He cannot spread her legs into a split, probably could not set one on his shoulder and lean very far down without pulling something, but it doesn't diminish her appeal any. For her part, she presses her lips together and watches him move, never once makes a move to edge away from him.

Hak rubs his hands down her thighs, past the sock checkpoint, and proceeds beneath the mystery that was her skirt. He touches her in places he's only dreamed of before on the darkest of nights, and it's suffocatingly fulfilling, to hold her in his hands like this, even if he's only cupping her hips and brushing his fingers along the lace of her panties.

_Lace. _Of course.

"Well," she mumbles back, still chewing her lip. Her pupils have been long blown wide, and she sits up on her elbows to watch him twist the elastic of her undergarments between his index finger. "I thought you were going to show me how it could be better?"

Cheeky princess. Hak can't help the crooked smile. Can't help but to duck low and press a warm, wet kiss to the crook of her thigh, where skin meets silk and lace. _Damp_ lace. Such a sacred thing he toys with now. It's a threshold he's never dared cross before.

He chances a glance up. Yona has a knuckle tucked between her teeth and watches him with utmost attention. It's almost perverse, the way she zeroes in on him as he touches her. When he tugs on her panties and begins pulling them down her hips, she raises herself off of the bed to assist him. It's consent, for sure, but it's more enthusiastic consent than he'd ever thought he'd get from her.

Something in his chest purrs, ancient and pleased. Hak watches the baby pink lace slide down the lily-white skin of her thighs, down past her skinny knees, over her dainty ankles. Tosses it over his shoulder, forgotten in the wake of new, unexplored skin. Pink skin. The press of her thighs makes that purring in his chest growl, uncomfortably so, and before it has the chance to claw its way out of him, he slides a hand between and nudges them apart.

She sighs his name and its all the permission he needs. Hak fulfills about a thousand teenage fantasies and bows between his princess' legs and attends to her, ahem, burning curiosities. It's warm there, between her thighs, where's she's wet and squirming and she seems to flutter around him, unbidden and surprised, for sure, at what he's able to do to her. And that growling purrs again, pleased, _pleased,_ and all he can think is _yes, let me do this for you. Yes, yes. _

He'd foolishly thought he'd known what lava felt like before. It had nothing on this. The coil he can almos_t feel _twisting within her, around his tongue, or the way her thighs feel linked around his face, muffling everything but the sound of his own blood pumping around his brain. A long, flat lick has her shuddering, legs trembling around her, and his hand presses her stomach down, to keep her from bucking against his face too violently and actually throwing his neck or something - not that it would be a very bad way to go or anything, but - but then she _whimpers _his name, so broken and desperate that he feels something actually break in him.

That's no good. He has a job to do. They have neighbors.

His hand slides up her stomach. Carefully, between the valley of her (soft, mysterious, warm) breasts to rest against her chin, and he's never been quite so pleased with their height difference before. His fingers meet her lips easily, and Yona greedily sucks one between her lips and entertains herself with trying to drain the bone marrow from his middle finger instead of rivaling the porn star on screen, one hand clutching his wrist like a lifeline, the other fisted in his sheets.

Part of him wishes she'd pull his hair. Another part of him is glad she isn't. One of them needs to remain in control here. One of them needs to at least think a little bit clearly. And, well. He's happy to do the job. Happy to suck her clit between his lips and feel her chomp down on his finger, watch her back arch prettily.

Is it better? Is this what she wants? He wants what she wants. Wants her to break apart beneath him. Wants to watch her struggle for air, swimming helplessly towards that relentless tide that so threats to drown her. Won't she let him be her rock?

She is molten around him, fluttering and _sopping,_ and when he introduces a long finger into the mix, crooking it curiously within her heat, that wave seems to finally overtake her, and then she's sinking, sinking, then bursting through the surface, gasping for air.

Hak presses a final, slow kiss to her thigh, just in case he doesn't get the chance again. Around his face, she loosens her hold, slinking down, wilting pleasantly.

"Ohhhh," she sighs, and Hak peeks up from between her legs long enough to watch her press the hand she'd formally had in her mouth to her chest.

There's a knot in his chest now. He can't say anything at all, can only watch her as she breathes in and out and closes her eyes, sated and pleased. Legs spread wide, skirt wrinkled around her waist. One sock fallen beneath her knobby knee.

Fuck, he still wants to kiss her.

"Hak," she says, finally, and there's so much heated texture in her voice that he's reminded, very suddenly, that he's aroused, too, and has been so for a very long time. Rock hard. Ah. "_Hak._"

He struggles to swallow his feelings. "... That is my name, Princess."

She looks at him through her lashes, and this time Hak does actually choke - there's so much love in her eyes that he doesn't know what to do with it. He wants to crush her to him, or he wants to melt beneath her mouth and rut against her stupidly, foolishly - but then she does the deciding for him, and tugs on him with her kitten strength, but it's not like it matters anyway. She could beckon him with a raise of her brows and he'd fall to her will anyway.

Yona kisses him, even with the taste of her on his tongue, and hums happily, linking her legs around his waist. She's still molten lava, warmer than anything, and he is so hard he thinks he might actually hurt himself. Even through the fabric of his boxers it's too much. She's too much.

"But that's not my name," she says against his lips, her voice thick like honey.

Old habits die hard. What can he say? He kisses her instead. Thinking is too much work. He can't play these games with her right now. She's gutted him alive with this little stunt. He will never be able to sleep soundly again without thinking about the way she'd looked on his bed as she'd come.

"Hak," Yona mumbles, and her hand slides down his abdomen, suspiciously so. "That's not my name."

She cannot touch him or else he absolutely will fall apart. Her hand slips beneath his shirt and explores the skin of his stomach for a long moment, almost possessively. He could keen beneath her loving ministrations.

Her hand brushes against his waistband. Hak brain short circuits and he bucks into her touch, desperately, like the faithful dog he is.

"My name," she says again, and it's not a question at this point. Hand on his face, fingers peeking beneath the waistband, petting, teasing.

Unflappable Hak gives in. Murmurs her name between her lips, and even as she finally touches him again, holds him in her hands and ruts herself against him, he wonders how he got here - and wonders, through the thick fog of arousal and the wet heat that is _Yona_ how Jae-Ha's scheme actually fucking _worked._

Well. He supposes there's a first time for everything.


End file.
